


Too Much For Me

by Callisparrow



Category: Genesis (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, stomach growl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisparrow/pseuds/Callisparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck far away from home near the end of a tour, Tony begins to feel the pain of a not-so-festive season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much For Me

They should be home now. He could feel it in his bones, the voice of home calling him back nearly halfway across the world.

And they might indeed be home by now too, or at least well on their way, if not for the bad weather and the canceled London flight.

Tony crossed his arms and glared out of the airport window to the tarmac, watching as workers did their best to de-ice the wings of the plane, but he knew it was no good. The evening skies were very dark and clouded with impending snow, and based on all reports there was even more Canadian ice and winds on their way.

He never thought there would ever be a time he looked forward to air travel, but anything, even being caught in the grip of anxiety 40,000 feet above the ground, was better than this endless waiting.

On top of everything, he was very hungry. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. In situations like this he usually waited for Phil to complain about his appetite (it never took very long) before politely agreeing to join him for dinner.

But Phil was not here. Most likely he hiding out elsewhere in the airport with their seething manager, trying to book a hotel for the night and avoid anybody who might recognize him from last night’s concert. People tended not to recognize himself or Mike, though. Die-hard fans, maybe. But for the moment nobody was paying the least attention to him, and that suited him fine.

Tony’s eyes wandered to the little fast-food shop across the airport lounge. He felt his mouth start to water and cringed as his stomach rumbled angrily. He knew the sound was lost amid the general commotion and there was nobody around to hear but it was still highly embarrassing somehow. Where was Mike? He’d gone to make a phone call but that seemed like hours ago. He didn’t want to leave this spot in case Mike came looking for him again, but… Christ, even those cheap airport sandwiches were staring to look good. He resisted the temptation to go over there and buy the whole lot for himself, partly from not wanting to get lost, and partly from his general nervousness about ordering food.

Oh, but how he wanted to go home. The homesickness almost ached more than physical hunger, and he never before realized how much it could hurt. He stared at the gaudy Christmas tree at the opposite end of the window, watching its colored lights blink and reflect into the foggy glass. He remembered his excitement so many years ago when they had left England on tour for the very first time. Mike in particular had been so eager to get out of what he perceived as a dull and uninteresting place, full of sad memories and struggle. Perhaps it was, and had always been.

But it was also his home. And Christmas was the time for everyone to be home. Wasn’t it? To be safe in the comfort of family and friends, to try not to squabble with relatives too badly, to eat and drink too much until lapsing into a drowsy stupor while watching a depressing array of television programmes until you fell asleep…

Actually maybe he wasn’t missing very much, now that he considered it.

Still.

He was suddenly aware of a presence very close to him and he looked up to see a very tall, long-haired reflection in the darkened window, looming behind him. He startled.

“How long have you been standing there?” he exclaimed.

“An hour,” Mike grinned. “I’m kidding!” he added in response to Tony’s skeptical frown. “Just wanted to see if you’d notice, you looked so…” He imitated his blank thousand-mile stare and Tony couldn’t help smiling just a bit.

“So high, is that it?”

“Spacey. Anyway, come on, we’re ready. Tony Smith’s got us a couple rooms for the night. It wasn’t easy but I suppose if you kick up enough of a fuss–”

“Where’s Phil?”

“Oh, he’s trying to find us a restaurant.” Mike put his arm around Tony’s shoulders and steered him away from the window. “He’s got us a cab already. Good thing too, I’m starved. What about you?”

Tony leaned into Mike’s shoulder and delicately put a hand on his own hungry stomach, trying in vain to stop it growling again.

“Yeah, I could eat something.”

Understatement of the fucking year, he thought.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re going to eat more than that, aren’t you?”

Tony raised an eyebrow as he glanced up from his full plate of salad. Phil was smiling cheekily at him from across the restaurant table, his eyes already sparkling with wine. Tony hid a smile and spoke through a mouthful of light and crispy lettuce flavored with vinaigrette.

“Mike, do you hear this man?” he said, gesturing with his fork. “I only  _just started_  eating and he’s already asking if I’m done.”

“Ha! I didn’t mean it like that, Tony darling,” Phil said as they all shared a laugh. “I just meant, you know. It’s almost Christmas. Live a little, an’ all that.” He reached for his third complimentary bread roll and spread it liberally with butter.

“That looks really good though,” said Mike, eyeing Tony’s plate. He had chosen not to order the salad but was starting to regret it. “I should have got that.”

Tony glanced at him sidelong and pushed the plate closer. Somehow it just didn’t feel right eating in front of him while his food hadn’t arrived. “Have some?” he offered.

“Oh. Thanks!” The two of them politely shared the rest of the salad, taking turns with each bite.

Tony was starting to relax a bit by this time. Enough red wine always seemed to have that effect, but he felt even better once the meal finally arrived. They had each ordered something different—Phil wanted chili and Mike was in the mood for the fried seafood platter—but whether unconsciously or not Tony had ordered the closest thing to a holiday meal that was available: slices of roast duck in orange sauce and a bed of rice. It wasn’t exactly  _traditional_ , in the English sense, but it was tender and juicy and extremely good.

“Wasn’t there something you were saying before, Tony?” Phil said presently, slightly muffled through a mouthful of hot chili. “Something about your school from hell?”

“Oh yes.” Tony and Mike smiled at the unflattering reference to their old school, a grim place that Phil would blissfully never know or fully understand. That was probably for the best. Charterhouse had been a place to be survived, not fondly enjoyed.

“Well, Mike asked me something about Vaughan Williams…”

“That’s right. I just wondered, d'you think it was the same for him at Charterhouse?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the—you know. The strictness and bullying and all that. The coldness. Did the housemasters come to him in the middle of the night and shout ‘Williams, you’re banned. You’re banned, Vaughan Williams, you are not to play the piano again.'” He was gratified to see Tony crack a smile at his imitation. “Or was he one of the popular cricketeer blokes instead?”

“I don’t know,” said Tony. “It’s strange how I don’t know much about his personal life. They never really taught us about that, it was always just 'look at this famous composer we turned out.'”

“You’re a famous composer,” Mike pointed out.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Well, they don’t use me as an object lesson, I’m sure.”

“Sure they do,” Phil spoke up, “they say 'children, don’t be like this man…'”

This time Tony really did laugh, his face lighting up in a rare grin. “Right. Don’t do what he did!”

“Don’t join a band, basically.”

The evening passed far too quickly in the company of his friends, and before Tony knew it, they had all finished eating. He took a deep breath and clasped his hands over his stomach, feeling intensely full and flushed with too much wine. It was uncomfortable but also satisfying in a strange way. He tried very discreetly to loosen the top button of his trousers, but decided to wait until he could relax back at the hotel.

He glanced across the table at Phil, who looked similarly glutted and happy, half-reclining with one arm slung over the back of the chair.

“Ahh, I needed that,” Phil sighed, patting his belly. “Probably the only good thing about missing the flight. Anybody want dessert?”

“Um. Yeah, maybe something small…” Tony warily agreed. I’m bound to get stomachache later on, he thought. But the worried notion flitted away just as quickly as it came. Somehow he didn’t really care.

 

* * *

 

 

The storm hit late that night just as they were preparing for bed. The wind gusted outside the hotel window, seeping cold air through the minuscule cracks around the sill. It created a persistent thin draft, but Mike didn’t seem too bothered by it, as long as he kept his socks on and wrapped his feet in the covers. Tony rested his head against Mike’s shoulder as they watched the late-night news, tucked against each other in a loose embrace.

The TV reception was rather poor with the storm still raging. In fact it was a wonder they still had power at all, Tony considered. The screen image flickered with static and more than once the lights dimmed in the room. Tony curled up tighter and let his eyes droop. He tried to shake a distant feeling of… what? Sadness? Anxiety? Some kind of worry and guilt, anyway. Typical, he thought ruefully. There was no need for that. Here it was warm and safe and his belly was full. And yet the anxious feeling persisted.

“Do you miss home?” Tony said, almost to himself.

Mike was silent for a long time.

“Sometimes,” he finally said. He securely tightened his embrace and buried his nose in Tony’s dark tangled hair. He gently kissed the top of his head. “Don’t worry.”

“Can’t help it,” Tony mumbled. His eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay awake. “I can’t watch any more.”

“Yeah.” Mike rubbed his back reassuringly. He sat up and reached for the remote to shut off the TV, leaving them in welcome silence. “Nothing good on anyway.”

Tony couldn’t help but notice that Mike was affected by something too. He seemed unusually fidgety and restless, shifting his weight every few seconds. When he rested a hand on his stomach and suppressed a burp, Tony just nodded to himself.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Um,” Mike said, turning it into a loud cough. “What? Nothing.”

“Hm. Tummy all right, then?” Tony continued. Their eyes met and Mike grinned sheepishly.

“How do you always know?”

“You’re not all that hard to figure out,” replied Tony with a smirk. He reached out to pat Mike’s stomach. It felt unusually taut and bloated, but he did not expect Mike to slump in his seat and groan with considerable pain.

“Ohh. Sorry, it’s too much—well everything, really,” Mike sighed. “I always overdo it, every year.”

“So do I.” Tony smiled. “For once it’s not me with the bad stomach.”

“Yeah.” Mike grunted with discomfort. “How did that happen?”

Tony shrugged and gently pulled up Mike’s baggy sweater, just enough to expose his rounded stomach, and began to rub. It just seemed natural to do so. His fingers drifted lower, tracing around Mike’s bellybutton and down the faint trail of hair. He was suddenly much more alert and his thoughts were moving in a very wicked direction, but for now he didn’t say anything. Mike, however, moaned and arched his back to move into the touch.

“That’s good,” he murmured. He pulled on the tortuously cutting waistband of his jeans to relieve some of the pressure, and in the next moment felt Tony’s deft fingers loosening his fly. He let his head fall back, wincing at the barrage of pained gurgling noises from his own unhappy insides.

“Ohh, that’s better already,” Mike groaned as he felt the buttons pop open. “God. Should have done that before.” Part of him felt ashamed by his own excess and the way his normally flat stomach plumped out with so much food, but there was another, more excited feeling building low inside him that made him blush very hot. He tried to lie still as Tony pushed his hands in firm circles over his aching belly, but he couldn’t stop himself from moving his hips slowly in the same rhythm. His breathing deepened as he felt himself growing hard.

“I can see you’re not feeling  _too_  bad,” Tony chuckled, rubbing one hand over the crotch of Mike’s jeans.

“Yeah. Ahhh it just feels so good when you do that.”

“Like this?” Tony put his hand down the front of Mike’s trousers, gently stroking him through his boxers.

“Yes. God yes,” Mike sighed.

“Shall I—”

“Yes. But, uh. You’ll have to get on top. I don’t think I can move.”

“Ah. So, no difference, then.”

“Shut up,” Mike grinned.

Despite their growing excitement there was no urgency this time, no frenzied kisses or desperate groping that had defined so many of their other encounters. There was no time constraint, no fear of being discovered accidentally in the back room of a busy studio, or worse, as in those repressed days of their youth, furtively kissing in some unused classroom and jumping at every sound. Now they had every luxury of time.

They located the bottle of lube beforehand this time and undressed each other very languidly, taking time to kiss and stroke every bit of each others’ naked body, a landscape that they already knew so intimately but never tired of exploring. Tony moved lower and put his mouth around Mike’s cock, drawing his tongue up the long shaft very slowly. For all the times he’d done it, he would never get tired of hearing Mike’s deep groans as he gave himself up to the sensation, absolutely unselfconscious in his pleasure. Tony wished he could be that way sometimes, just give up sight and sound and knowledge of his own self in exchange for that kind of joy, but he never quite knew how. He brought Mike to the edge of orgasm and stopped just as he sensed the tension, the hitch in his breathing that meant he was on the point of release.

“Ahh, don’t stop now—” Mike panted.

“I know you like that,” Tony said, his own breathing coming up short in his excitement. “But I’m ready now.”

Mike nodded breathlessly. He lay dazed for a moment, watching Tony apply lube to himself, before reaching up to finger him. Tony breathed deeply, shutting his eyes as Mike’s strong fingers slid in and out of him very slowly.

“Now?” said Mike, when he sensed Tony couldn’t wait much longer.

“Yes. Now.” He lowered himself onto Mike’s cock, his spread legs trembling, until he was fully sheathed. From that point on neither said a word as they moved together as one. A slight wetness of perspiration sprung up on their flushed skin despite the cold draft. As Mike’s hand closed around the tip of his cock and pulled, Tony braced himself, both hands flat on Mike’s tummy. He gritted his teeth and thrust even faster. He wanted Mike to fill up every part of him until he forgot what it was to be a separate being, to keep going until he burst, until—

“ff-fuck… aahh!” With quick breathy gasps Tony came hard, spilling over Mike’s hand. He was beyond coherent thought, beyond words, as Mike’s other hand gripped his ass, crushing him closer, pushing ever deeper into his willing body.

“Ahh god!!” Mike thrust once more and Tony felt the familiar hot sensation of his orgasm shooting into him, filling him completely.

They disengaged and lay prone together for a while before cleaning up, tenderly washing each other with a damp cloth, before returning to the warmth and safety of their bed. At some point, and without really being aware of it, Tony drifted off to sleep on Mike’s chest, too exhausted and content in the afterglow to continue any meaningful conversation. But it was not long before a sudden noise and movement startled him. He blinked sleepily and saw that Mike had gotten out of bed to open the door.

“What—” Tony mumbled.

“Hey.” It was Phil’s voice. He sounded strangely subdued and quiet in the dark. “Go back to sleep, Tony, I’m sorry. Didn’t know if you were still awake.”

“Well I am now.” Tony sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“Okay if Phil stays here?” Mike asked as he climbed back into bed.

“Yeah, yeah. Why though? Thought his bed was nicer,” Tony replied, settling down beside Mike once more.

“Hm, yeah, but. It’s not got you in it,” Phil said, a smile creeping into his voice. “And… I dunno. I got kinda lonely.”

“I see.” Tony smiled to himself as Phil removed his clothes and wiggled into bed, snuggling on Mike’s other side. Mike folded his arms around them both and held them very close. For a time all was very quiet and secure and warm, but for some reason Phil couldn’t seem to stop twitching and fidgeting about as he settled in.

“Something wrong?” Tony finally had to ask.

“Sorry. Can’t sleep.”

“It’s three in the bloody morning, Phil.” Mike was doing his best to sound cross but Tony suspected his tone was only for show.

“I know. But I feel… ooh. Feel restless,” Phil purred, and rubbed closer against Mike. “Have you, um, already…”

“We did, yeah. Hehe, sorry, didn’t realize you’d be joining us tonight.”

“Aw, s'all right.” Phil tried not to sound too disappointed and curled up tighter, resting on Mike’s stomach. “Nevermind. I’ll just be here.  _Alone_.”

Tony did a very poor job of suppressing his laughter. “Mike, please take care of this man,” he chuckled. “He’s not going to let us get any sleep.”

“Mmm, he’s right, Mike. I shan’t leave either of you alone.”

In the dim glow of the hallway light, Tony thought he saw Mike’s half-closed eyes glint with naughty intent. Sure enough, in the next second he rolled over without warning and caught Phil in his arms, pinning him to the bed. The more Phil laughed and squirmed, the tighter Mike squeezed him.

“Won’t leave us alone, is that it?” Mike whispered into Phil’s ear. His deep voice sent a longing shiver down Tony’s back, and even Phil went quiet with anticipation.

“Mmm. I see how it’s gonna be. Get up, then. Get on top,” Mike said.

“Why should I get on top, then?” Phil teased.

“Because.”

“Because he ate too much,” Tony added slyly, as Mike tried to shush him.

“Really? You mean for once it’s not me?” Phil seemed delighted. He rested his ear against Mike’s still-full tummy and stroked his sides, listening intently to the steady rumbles of indigestion. “Mmm, I see what you mean. This is kind of relaxing actually. For me, prob'ly not for you, haha. Does it hurt?” He pushed on Mike’s belly, testing its fullness, and felt his muscles tense up under his hand.

“Oof. Well, yes, if you do that. But it’s a lot better now, I think,” Mike admitted. He was glad no one could see him blush this much in the dark. He stretched out one long arm to reach the little bottle of lube he’d tossed aside on the night-table.  “But I don’t think I’m up to a second round, y'know. So…” He squirted some lube into his hand and let it warm up before smoothing it over Phil’s engorged cock. “You’ll just have to make do.”

“Ahhhh.” Phil shivered with pleasure. “Ah yeah. I can do that,” he giggled. He rocked back and forth as Mike pulled him off, slowly at first, then with increasing intensity and speed. Tony watched them with intent lust. He could feel blood pulsing to his groin once again, not enough to make him fully hard, but enough to cause a distracting throb. He propped himself up on one hand and reached out to glide his other hand down the sinuous curve of Phil’s back. Phil moaned.

“Oh Mike. Mmmm. Tony… hit me, please. Spank me.” He was panting, his whole body poised for release as he begged for it. His back arched and made his rounded buttocks stand out invitingly to be spanked. Tony gladly did so, hard and sharp, with a resounding  _smack_  that made Phil gasp.

“You like that, don’t you,” Tony purred low. “You like when I strike you.”

“Ohh yes, yes I love it. Again, please don’t stop—!” He pumped faster against Mike’s hand. He was very close now, breathing very hard with need. Two more precision strikes against his rear and Phil was over the edge, crying out in loud wordless gasps as he spurted across Mike’s stomach. In the next second he let out a long exhalation of relief and dropped onto the bed between his friends, completely spent.

“Ah, yeah. That’s the way,” Mike said, his voice slightly guttural and tired but warm with encouragement. He held Phil close to him and allowed him to rest on his stomach for a while, even as sticky as they were. The room was heavy now with mingled body heat and the heady scent of sex.

“Why’re you so good to me,” Phil murmured softly, tracing his fingers across Mike’s chest. “Both of you…”

“I dunno,” said Mike.

“I suppose we like you,” said Tony.

“Aw. I like you too,” Phil replied, laughing. He reached out weakly and pulled Tony into a tight hug. “You’re probably tired, aren’t you.”

“A little,” Tony admitted. His eyes felt dry and gritty with lack of sleep. He yawned and watched Mike rise stiffly out of bed to shuffle off to the bathroom and clean himself.  “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah. I could sleep forever now, lemme tell you.” Phil rolled over on his back and brought his face close to Tony’s, headbutting him gently. “Don’t worry, sugarlump. We’ll be home soon enough.”

Tony snorted at the use of the ridiculous pet name. He let Phil nuzzle against his neck as he lazily reached out to lift the drawn blinds across the window. It was still snowing abundantly, though the bitter wind had momentarily died down. The cool draft rushed across their heated bodies as they watched the snow swirling in blinding white gusts. It was frighteningly beautiful and sparkling, like crystalline stars in the faint streetlights.

As Mike returned and they all piled together under the covers for warmth, the last thing Tony could remember before sleep was the calm rhythm of a soft heartbeat against his ear; the sound of home.


End file.
